At that point Gord could no longer contain himself. "You've known all along?" he asked, anger overriding the excitement he felt.
Rexfelis showed little emotion, but his huge, dark eyes had a tinge of sadness as he replied. "Yes, Gord, I have known all along. I do not ask your forgiveness, for there is nothing to forgive. Perhaps you'll understand when you know more, perhaps not. Too many sought you — too many of such deadly power and fell purpose that not even all of us here, let alone simply me, could keep them from you had they fully understood just who and what you were... or are, rather."
"Just what is that?" Gord's voice was calm, but an inner glow coming from his gaze bespoke his rage and sadness at being kept uninformed for so long.
"The one foretold... the one foreordained to light the final battle."
The Catlord's last words curtailed Gord's rising fury, stopped it cold. "I am fated to fight... the final battle?" he asked.
"No, no, Rexfelis," the ancient priest, Nastan, said loudly in his cracked voice. "Not any of us can so order. We are mere predictors — searchers for clues is a better term, perhaps."
"Well, I don't care who ordered it, actually," Gord said harshly. "I have some say. And why this damned secrecy? If this has been foreordained, then who or what could prevent it? Why not tell all?"
Rexfelis spoke again. "Not so fast. What is foretold is this: Should you attain your maturity, manage to survive and not be polluted by evil, or made narrow by some rigid conceit, then you would be the one to bear the banner for us."
Gord started to open his mouth, but the Catlord silenced him with a stern look. "Mind you, prince, that I speak of no guarantees. Attend my words; let your ears hear. You alone can fight for us. None of those who espouse Law or Chaos must be allowed to prevail. Balance is the force that has a champion, one to carry the contest to Unrelenting Darkness.
"That much alone is foretold — the outcome of the battle is not prescribed. No hint is even given. Yet, your even being able to contest with the great enemy was sufficient to make the vile ones quail. You had to be protected — and kept ignorant so as not to reveal some clue unwittingly — until we could reveal this knowledge to you."
The years in miserable suffering, the horrors of that bastard Theobald and beggary, the whole course of my life..."
"Necessary — and generally secretly assisted for the better by our agents, or simply directed by your own mind, Gord. In fact, what you did, what you accomplished, what you are — all of that is your own doing."
"And just what does all of this mean?"
"Who can say? Not even the best of us is so great as to venture into such suppositions. Yet, prince, I think you yourself know the answer well enough. You see all sides of the question, judge, and act. Each year you grow, your perspective heightens, and the change is evident. You perceive the great conflict which now embroils all. It is a deadly game which will decide the fate of your world and ours too, whether of material sort or not."
Gord shook his head in denial. That is no game, and I am no pawn in it."
To some it is a game," Basiliv the Demiurge said gently. "It is a helpful analogy to use, though. The ones we contest with, even those we seek to aid, see it as such, you know."
"How can this be called a game? Lives being played with, lost.... It is monstrous!"
There is a prize at stake, Gord," Basiliv said in reply to the heated denial. "It is a contest. You have played the game of life and death often enough yourself, I think."
"It was for survival, and against those who knew full well the consequences of loss. Each was an able and skilled opponent, and I took only the lives of those who needed to die," Gord countered with less anger but iron determination filling his voice.
"Most arrogant and Judgmental!" This came in unison from the four who were the head of the Cabal, the strange Hierophants. "We object to your attitude, Gord. If you do not dismiss such thinking from yourself immediately, you will be an unfit champion." Though the four spoke at one time, they were of one mind and one voice so utterly that the words came from each of them simultaneously. The effect was eerie and rather unsettling, but Gord would not be dissuaded.
"I am not champion. I have no wish to play this game! Let the hells, the demons, all of you find some other pawn to push around!" Gord was ready to rise and leave, although he didn't know where he would go or what the reactions of these mighty ones of Balance would be when he tried to evacuate. At this juncture he no longer cared. It was just too much for a mortal spirit to bear.
Rexfelis stopped him, smiling gently. "You are right. You need not be a pawn. Do not 'play.' Those who seek evil, death, misery, enslavement for all who do not serve them willingly will gloat and be filled with glee at your decision, Gord. They have long sought to eliminate you from the contest. Your quitting will serve almost as well as your death, I think."
That made Gord sink back down and stare at the Catlord. "Better, better," Rexfelis said softly. "Long have you played unwittingly, without our direction, although our other active forces in the game supported you when they could. Then you took part at the direction of Balance, but without full knowledge of what was involved. Even should you choose to leave now, Gord, I think that too would simply be part of the play. You, like us, cannot escape by simply wishing to."
Gord could do little but shrug. "Then I am no champion at all. I am a piece which wanders aimlessly about, doing nothing of significance and unable to direct my course. Let one of you powerful beings serve as the banner-bearer. Who amongst you all is not more puissant than I?"
"Fairly put, young Gord," a slow and heavy voice said. All in the chamber were completely still at the sound, and Gord looked over to the place where the words had come from. "Yet there is a bit of each of us to go with you, and then you will be both less and more than any of us," the being continued.
That meant nothing to him, but Gord was unsettled by what he saw. Nothingness and yet something occupied a place in the hall, and none of the other occupants of the place were near the space. "I am at a disadvantage... Lord of... Nothingness? I cannot see you, nor do I know your title or realm."
"I am All and Nothing, prince. You were not far from the mark. It is sufficient to say that in my own limited way I am part of Balance in that I contest with life and death, chaos and order. Normally I would not take part in any struggle, for in the end I will triumph over all that way.
"However," the measured, plodding voice spoke on, "the advent of Tharizdun has forced me to assist the Lords of Neutrality. Thus a portion of my essence will be yours to call upon, should you step forward and serve willingly."
Advent? So the terrible force of total evil was advancing. That knowledge had a great effect upon the young thief, and Gord forgot to ask just what the so-called 'All and Nothing' was. Instead he turned to the Master of All Cats. "Explain more of this to me, please," he asked simply, settling back in his chair for the first time since he had been thrust into this assemblage.
Rexfelis proceeded to tell him about the emerging struggle that put Balance into so exposed a position in the very center of all. With occasional interjections from the great personages and virtual deities in the chamber, the Catlord related how he and the others had sought to confound the machinations of devils and demons without recourse to a particular champion. Although they, as the sovereigns of Neutrality, knew that there was a prophecy regarding such a singular figure, even they could not be certain, so they had played on while keeping careful guard over the one who might one day be needed — by all the multiverse, not just by Balance. Gord's parents had been, together, a minor force in the game, and they had been betrayed into vulnerability by pieces of their own color. Sadly, they had been eliminated and yet thus fulfilled a part of the foretelling, for behind them remained a tiny spark of potential.